


The Choices We Make

by NemKess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, written pre-OotP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemKess/pseuds/NemKess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are, all of us, defined by the choices that we make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Draco

**Author's Note:**

> Brought over from FF.net with a little editing. This was written before Order of the Phoenix came out, so there's some obvious departure from canon beyond just the D/H slash.

_Where the devil could he be?_ Draco wondered to himself as he approached the icy lake. He'd been wandering around looking for his current paramour for the last hour and had nothing more than a migraine to show for the effort. _He'd bloody well better appreciate this._

Malfoys did not usually bother searching for their lovers. Lovers came to them. Draco in particular tended to simply find someone else. But then, the entire wizarding world broke all sorts of rules when it came to their darling Harry Potter and the Malfoy heir was chagrinned to find that he was no different in that regard. Only Harry could make him wander around outside in freezing temperatures.

The sound of familiar voices floated to him on the breeze and he paused. No matter how hard he strained though, he was still too far away to make heads or tails of what was being said.

What on Earth could Harry and the Weasel possibly have to talk about that was important enough to necessitate standing outside in such horrid weather? Surely if this was just another, 'I can't believe you're snogging Malfoy' speech, they could have stayed in the warmth of their common room.

Grinning, he eased his way through the trees and bushes. Whatever it was, he was sure it would prove entertaining at least.

"-see you hurt. That's all." The ginger headed boy's voice was earnest in the way that only Gryffindors could manage.

A bit further, and Draco could actually see the pair of them. Harry's robes had been carelessly tossed onto the ground next to the tree he was leaning on. His small, Seeker frame was almost lost in the massive sized green sweater with an 'H' on the front and his trousers were baggy as well. Draco rolled his eyes. They'd been clothes shopping twice in the two and a half months that they'd been 'dating' and he knew perfectly well that his lover had several stylish outfits. He suspected that the insistence to continue wearing the usual rags more often than not was sheer perverseness on Harry's part.

Black hair was tousled even worse than usual by the wind and his cheeks were pale from cold. The observing Slytherin could feel his body stir and he was suddenly glad that he'd gone through the trouble of tracking his erstwhile lover down. He was going to have a great deal of fun 'warming' him up.

Naughty thoughts were cut off as Harry sighed in defeat and let himself slide down the tree trunk to sit shoulder to shoulder with Weasley. The taller of the Gryffindors had shown rare sense in not only keeping his robes on, but in having worn a thick one as well.

"I know, Ron. And I appreciate the sentiment. I do.” They sat in silence for a moment, and then he spoke again. "I can't help how I feel. I didn't exactly ask for it, you know."

Weasley turned towards him and Draco could see genuine care and worry on the boy's face. That gave him pause. Up until this point, he'd honestly thought that Harry's best friend was just being contrary because of his petty dislike for the name Malfoy. He'd never considered that his concern was sincere.

"Harry, he's Malfoy. Even now that you're-" The freckled face scrunched in distaste. "Shagging.. Even now, he's given every indication that he plans on following in his father's footsteps. He's going to become a Death Eater and he's going to spend his adulthood trying to kill you."

"I know," Harry's response was so low, that Draco could barely hear him. His expression was bleak.

"He doesn't love you. I'm not even sure he likes you."

"I know." The sad, resigned tone didn't suit the Gryffindor at all. Harry sounded as if he'd already given up.

Weasley exploded. "Then why?!"

"Because _I_ love _him_.” Draco barely managed to keep from stumbling back in surprise. Whatever he'd expected, it certainly hadn't been _that_. "The damage is done, Ron. Whether I leave him now or he leaves me later, I'm going to be hurt."

"Harry-"

"What's wrong with taking what happiness I can get right now?" The mulish set to his chin was infinitely more familiar. It was the look that said Harry was going to do what he wanted and damn the consequences. "Why can't I be selfish for once? My entire life is dictated by either the past or the future. Why can't I just live in the _now_?”

There was an explosive sigh from the Weasel as he muttered something and pulled Harry towards him. They sat there, Weasley offering what comfort he could for a minute or two before Ron spoke again. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just-" There was another pause as he seemed to be struggling for words. Finally, a decisive look on his freckled face, he pulled back to look into Harry's eyes. "Fine. Love him while you can. 'Mione and I won't bother you for now. But," he shook the slim shoulders for emphasis, "when he's a Death Eater and the enemy, he's dead. I'm sorry if that'll hurt you even further, but he is."

Draco didn't stay to hear Harry's reply. He set a rapid pace back to the castle and down into the comfort of the dungeons.

He had a great deal of thinking to do.

~*~*~

The next morning was Saturday, thankfully, and a free weekend to boot. Long before the sun rose and anyone else had gotten up, Draco sent two letters. Then he calmly dressed and went up for an early breakfast.

Sometime in the long night he'd come to a few decisions and he'd need a full stomach to deal with everyone that needed to be dealt with.

An hour later found him bundled up in his nicest winter robes and heading for Hogsmeade. From there, he took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley.

He spent the morning completing the errands he'd needed to get done. Stops at Gringott's, Madame Malkin's, and a last one at the office of a well-known wizard's barrister left him starving and exhausted. And he still had a handful of others to deal with before he was finished.

But it was lunchtime and he had an important meeting.

Picking up his pace, he found the small restaurant tucked back a little ways behind Gringott's.

His father was already there, but he didn't look particularly annoyed. Draco was relieved to see that he wasn’t as late as he'd thought he might be.

"Father."

"Draco."

Their greetings seemed cold to casual observers, but there was genuine affection behind the polite masks they wore in public.

Out of courtesy, the pair ordered and ate their meal before getting down to business.

Lucius eyed his son for a moment before sighing. "So, your letter said it was urgent."

"Yes, Father."

"You've chosen, then?"

"I have." Draco inclined his head affirmatively.

"I trust I don't have to tell you that your mother and I aren't exactly pleased."

The younger of the pair shrugged and swirled his drink around in its goblet. "I wasn't exactly expecting you to be."

"This isn't some sort of teenage rebellion that you're just now going through?" There was a hopeful note in his father's voice that would have left Draco snickering on any other occasion. As it was, he hated to crush his father's hopes.

"No, sir."

The elder Malfoy nodded his head glumly. "I rather thought not, but your mother was quite sure." He sighed again then met his son's silver gaze directly. His own ice blue eyes demanded the truth. "Why Potter? Surely he's not that good in the sack."

The Slytherin Seeker cursed his fair skin as he felt his cheeks heat up. As flagrant as he might be at school, he'd never been comfortable discussing his sex life with either of his parents. "He loves me."

That gave Lucius pause. Whatever the world thought of Malfoys in general and Draco or Lucius in particular, one thing the family had always respected was love. The Malfoy name brought prestige, money, and fear. His father had sat him down once and explained how very rare love for them really was and how important it was to hold onto it should he ever be lucky enough to find someone who loved them for something other than their money or power. If Harry truly loved him, it was in spite of who he was and not because of it.

"You're certain?”

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back in his seat and simply stared at his son for a long moment. Then, he gave a small incline of his head. "You understand that your mother and I can not publicly approve of your actions at this time. Differing politics and all." He paused long enough to make sure Draco understood. "Do you need anything?"

"No, sir. I've taken care of the most pressing business already. This morning, in fact. There are a few more matters to attend to, then I've just got to let Harry know."

His father smirked. "You haven't even talked with him about this? Is this not the sort of thing you ask permission for?"

The blush that had only just faded was back in full force. "I'm meeting him for dinner this evening. We'll talk then."

"Well. Good luck, then. I truly hope everything works out for you." Lucius signed for their meal and stood. "If we're all still alive when everything's settled, we should have tea. The four of us."

"Thank you, Father. I'd like that." Draco broke with protocol and stood up to embrace his father before the man could leave. He knew that it was going to be a long time before he saw him again. He wasn't a religious young man, he left that up to fanatics and Mudbloods, but he found himself praying that they would all be around for that tea party. "I love you, Daddy."

Lucius wrapped his own arms around his son. "And I you, little Dragon. I suppose if I had to lose you to the Light, there were worse choices. Stay safe." With a soft kiss to the crown of silvery blonde, his father was gone.

Draco took a few moments to compose himself before he too left the restaurant. He still had several things to do.

~*~*~*~

"Draco?"

The Slytherin turned at the sound of his lover's voice and had to stop and admire the fine picture before him. 

For once, Harry had worn one of his new outfits without Draco having to nag him into it. The black velvet robe was trimmed in emerald and pushed back off his shoulders in a manner that looked quite dashing. Though he'd always be short, the trim cut black trousers and tailor made emerald green silk shirt didn't make him look like a half starved waif like his regular clothes did. He'd made an obvious attempt at trying to tame his wild mane, but the stubborn locks of raven simply refused to lay correctly and perched on his nose were the brand new, much thinner pair of glasses that Draco had convinced the Gryffindor to buy as a compromise when he'd refused to even consider a corrective spell or potion.

All in all, Harry Potter made quite a pleasing and drool-worthy sight.

And now that he was aware of it, Draco could see the love in his expression.

He smiled happily.

Harry seemed startled at first, but responded in kind.

There would be problems, he knew. Big ones with names like Voldemort and Dumbledore, Weasley and Parkinson.

But somehow, Draco knew he'd never regret his choice.


	2. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written pre-OotP and it's more obvious in this chapter than it was in the last one. There was so much about Rowling's wizarding world that we just didn't know about until afterwards. I was never particularly pleased with how this came out, but I've edited it and I think I like it a bit better.
> 
> Potential Trigger Warning: Harry has the start of a panic attack at the end, but it's largely averted. He doesn't actually consider it one himself, but it is. Only someone who suffers from panic attacks would probably recognize it.

**

 _What the hell am I supposed to wear?_ Harry groused to himself as he sifted through outfit after outfit that he and his friends had laid out. The letter he'd received from his lover that morning had seemed more formal than usual and he'd wanted to dress appropriately even though he felt far more comfortable in his everyday attire. _He'd better damn well appreciate this._

"What about this one?"

The dark haired young man turned from the small mound of clothes that covered his bed to see what had been found. Hermione was holding up a silk shirt of deep emerald green. He cocked his head to one side and studied it for a second before glancing down at the black trousers he'd already decided on. Shrugging, he took the proffered shirt and put it on. Then he turned to get the opinion of his other best friend. Ron was propped against his own headboard glaring at nothing in particular. He was only there grudgingly, his disapproval of Harry's love interest well known. “Well? What do you think?"

"It looks great on you, Harry," 'Mione assured him with a smile. She wasn't thrilled with his choice either, but she had long since decided not to begrudge her often world-weary friend what happiness he found. When Ron just snorted, the witch elbowed him in the ribs.

"You look fine. Can I go now?"

Nodding, Harry watched the other boy go sadly.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

The smile he gave Hermione was weary but sincere. "Don't be, 'Mione. You're not anymore responsible for Ron's actions than I am for Draco's. A t least he didn't spend the last hour trying to talk me out of it." 

Which really was a vast improvement from just the day before. Considering the past that lay behind all of them, he knew he couldn't expect anything more positive from either of his friends.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He bit his lip as he searched the stack again for the cloak that went with the shirt. It had annoyed him at the time, Draco's insistence that he buy several to match various outfits, but now he was thankful for the efficiency.

The silence from the bed where the female part of his infamous Trio had sat finally caught his attention and he turned to see the Muggle-born witch chewing her thumbnail. It was a habit of hers when she was anxious over something but wasn't sure how to ask about it. "What is it, 'Mione?"

Startled brown eyes flew up to meet his own. She opened her mouth to say something then stopped for a second. Finally, she just blurted it out. "Why, Harry? I just don't understand. I mean… it was one thing to think you were just in it for sex." She blushed at his raised brow, but pressed on. "Well, give the devil his due. Draco _is_ attractive. What I mean is… why did you have to go and fall in love with the prat?"

Harry sighed before picking up his comb and handing it to her as he sat down in front of her on the bed. He didn't really want to go over this again. It had been hard enough trying to explain to Ron and even then he hadn't really been able to make his redheaded friend understand anything other than that the feelings were there and that they were real. Hermione, while more accepting, would want specifics. She wouldn't be fobbed off with 'I just do' or 'I don't know'.

Gentle hands massaged his scalp a bit before tugging the comb through the unmanageable mess he called hair. Hermione had been his friend long enough to understand that sometimes he needed time to gather his thoughts if he wanted to make any kind of sense. He was often grateful for that and now was no exception.  
He turned it over and over in his mind, but was having difficulty coming up with a way to explain in a manner that his friend would understand. How could he explain something that he didn't always understand himself?  
How could he explain why he loved someone that he knew was just using him?

"I'm not sure any explanation I can give will make much sense, 'Mione." He warned after a few minutes of silent thought, giving up on trying to find the perfect words.

The comb in his hair disappeared briefly when she paused to wrap her arms around him and leaned her chin against his shoulder. "Love rarely makes sense, Harry. And loving Draco Malfoy makes the least sense of all. I just... well... I'm not expecting anything particularly logical."

Harry wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. In the end, he trusted their friendship enough to believe that if it had been an insult, it wasn't a horrible one.

Pushing it out of his mind, he concentrated back on the subject at hand. "You know that I haven't exactly been myself these past couple of years."

She nodded. "Honestly, sometimes you're colder than Malfoy. Not with Ron or I, of course, but with everyone else. No one blames you, Harry. Things haven't been easy for you since... well... since ever and it's only gotten worse since fourth year." With a final squeeze, she let go of him and moved back to brushing his hair occasionally using her wand to try and tame the worst of the tufts of black.

He sighed with pleasure at the pampering he only got from Hermione and, when he was at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley. They were the sister and mother that he'd never had.

"I don't really do it on purpose. I just... Most of the time I can't really bring myself to care. Since... Since Sirius died," his voice caught for a moment at the thought of his much loved, if hardly known, godfather. Almost two years had gone by and he still felt the man's absence, "things have been odd here," he tapped his temple before laying the same hand on his chest over his heart, "and here. Usually it's like I'm walking around in a daze. Like I'm already dead inside and my body just hasn't figured that out yet. For a long time, there really wasn't much that broke through that feeling, even briefly. You and Ron, the other Weasley's- sometimes. That was about it, and even then... I don't know... It's like something inside was... broken."

Hermione let out a distressed noise and her fingers tightened around a lock of his hair, but she didn't interrupt. Both she and Ron had known he felt like that sometimes. They'd both talked to him about it at various times, but she probably hadn't realized it was as bad as it was. Harry was very good at pretending he was fine.

He'd never told them exactly how he and Draco had ended up together, either. He found that he wanted to share the story and he knew it would get the witch's mind off the darker thoughts. It was quite amusing.

"I think Draco kissed me the first time out of sheer annoyance that I didn't fight with him anymore. He was just desperate for a reaction." He smiled back at her for a second. "Honestly, he's always been way too obsessed with me. It's charming really."

“I don’t think charming is really the word I'd use. Disturbing, perhaps.”

He chuckled softly. "That too."

"So? Did the gorgeous prince's kiss miraculously fix whatever was broken?"

Laughing outright at that, he shook his head. "Course not, 'Mione. It's not a fairy tale, after all. Actually, I didn't feel anything at all about it. I just told him I'd had better and walked away."

It had been a lie, of course. Despite one near miss with Cho Chang when they’d both been too upset to even make a real effort, he’d managed to make it all the way into Draco’s arms without having ever kissed anyone else at all.

Not that he’d ever tell Draco that. 

Hermione’s laughter joined his own. "I can just imagine how well he took that."

With a nod, he continued. "Yeah, he wasn't exactly happy with me. But I guess he took it as some sort of a challenge. After that the prat was turning up everywhere. He was quite determined to prove he wasn't second best to anyone."

"So that's why he spent all those weeks in such a royal snit. I think you're probably the only person that’s ever turned him down. But I don't understand. If you still didn't feel anything, even with him doing his damnedest to either kiss or annoy a reaction out of you, how did you end up falling in love with him?"

Harry smiled at the memory. "He smiled."

"Pardon?"

"We were in Hogsmeade one Saturday. You and Ron had gone off to snog somewhere and he had managed to corner me. I forget where exactly except that it was outside. The wind had messed up his hair worse than mine normally is and… I dunno. That annoyed me." He could still remember that, even if a lot of the other details of the day had slipped his mind. Seeing Draco Malfoy's hair messed up had annoyed the crap out of him, though he still didn't understand why. The annoyance was so great that it had overridden his apathy long enough to make him reach out and try to put the platinum locks back in order. Draco had looked shocked at first. 

And then his face had lit up in a grateful smile. Apparently having his hair messy had annoyed him as well.  
"When I straightened it for him, he smiled at me."

He'd never seen that sort of smile on the Slytherin's face, hadn't even been sure he'd been capable of it. And for a moment, his nearly frozen heart had fluttered with something resembling happiness. He'd put that smile there, however unintentionally, and that knowledge had felt good in a way that very little else had in all the months since the death of his godfather.

"You fell in love with him because he smiled at you?" There was no missing the mix of skepticism and sarcasm in her voice.

Shaking his head, he turned around to face her. "No. But for just that second, I was happy that he had smiled because of me. It's not the usual expression I inspire for people, 'Mione."

Which was true. With each victory over Voldemort and his followers, the respect he got from the Wizarding World had grown. So had the fear. 

Fear of his ever-increasing power, fear of the darkness that sometimes peered out from behind his glasses. Fear of him.

"It grew from there, though. A little at a time. The ennui began to fade bit by bit. And when we started having sex," he blushed but pushed on gamely, "it faded a little more. Until it was almost gone." His moments of complete emotionlessness were few and far between these days. The little cracks Draco had made in the ice had allowed others to get in as well. While he doubted he'd ever find the closeness he shared with Ron and Hermione with anyone else, he'd warmed back up to most of the people he'd been friends with before. "Even when the thought of him leaving me hurts, at least I feel it. Love or pain, it tells me that I'm alive, 'Mione. And I'd started to forget that for a while. Draco just reminded me."

His friend pulled him into a tight hug, clinging like she was afraid he might disappear. He clung to her just as tightly, knowing that there had been a time when he very well might have. “Well, for that at least, I'm grateful. I suppose I can even be moderately civil to the twit."

Harry smiled as he rested his cheek against hers, basking in the warmth of her unconditional love and friendship. He was damned lucky to have a friend like this. Hermione and Ron were two of the best things that had ever happened to him and despite their lack of censure, he knew that he'd treated them shabbily in the dark months when his emotions had been locked away.

He vowed never to let that happen again. No matter how many people he lost to Voldemort or how shattered he ended up when Draco finally grew bored, he'd never hide in the safety of non-feeling again. He could survive the pain, but he knew he couldn't survive the loss if he ever managed to push his friends away.

~*~*~

The Slytherin was already at the restaurant when Harry arrived. Draco stood off to one side, seeming to stare at nothing and looking deep in thought.

Harry had to stop and admire his lover in front of him. Hermione was right as usual. Draco was attractive. Gorgeous really. He was dressed in dark slacks and a long-sleeved white dress shirt topped with a silver and black sweater vest. He'd already removed his expensive robe and had it draped over one arm. Though his hair no longer looked like it had been cemented down like it had when they were still children, the blonde tresses were slicked back, nary a hair out of place. He looked like the rich, pureblooded wizard that he was.

He also looked entirely too serious for a simple dinner and Harry couldn't help the wave of uncertainty that washed over him. Had Draco asked him here to break off their relationship? Part of him despaired. Somehow, he'd thought he'd have more time than this.

"Draco?"

Draco turned around and looked him up and down, making Harry glad that he'd taken the time to make sure he looked nice. The glow of approval and mild arousal in those silver eyes went a long way in easing the knot that had formed in his throat.

And then the blonde smiled. Not his usual smirk, but a brilliant, genuine smile that lit up his entire face.

If only Ron and Hermione could see that smile, Harry thought. That was the smile that had started the whole falling in love thing. When Draco Malfoy smiled like that, he wasn't just attractive. He was beautiful.

Harry smiled back.

"Harry." The aristocrat glided over to him and offered an arm. Though Harry hesitated for a moment, he reached out and took it. Draco wasn't usually into such public displays of their affair. Oh, he'd never deny that they were lovers and at the school, he was an awful flirt, but at Hogsmeade he was generally a bit more discreet. Harry had never really cared one way or the other and had simply guessed that showing affection of any sort in company was one of those things that Malfoys just didn't _do_.

The smiling hostess of the establishment appeared then and led them over to a secluded table. The window beside it had been enchanted to give a gorgeous view of a clear night sky shimmering with the magic of the Northern Lights. A crystal vase sat on the table, a bouquet of Oriental Siberian lilies and another smaller, slightly off-white flower that Harry didn't recognize gave off a pretty floral scent that was soothing.

His companion pulled out his chair for him and kissed his cheek, causing Harry to blush and wonder at his lover's odd mood. Their relationship wasn't exactly what one would call romantic. And yet... There was nothing else one could call this. Draco had definitely put forth a great deal more effort than usual for some reason. Harry’s curiosity was running rampant and his mind was racing, but he couldn’t think of any reason for Draco’s behavior.

"Draco, what-"

"Questions later, Harry. Let's eat first, shall we?”

Subduing his curiosity was difficult, but the raven haired Seeker managed it- barely. With a nod, he glanced down at the elegant hand-written menu and had a sudden urge to roll his eyes when he realized that he couldn't read it. Draco’s fondness for foreign cuisine was something that he was getting accustomed to, but usually there were no menus involved, just food that Harry gamely tried no matter how strange. “You know I can't read French, Draco. You'll have to either order for me or translate."

For some reason, the Slytherin found that outrageously funny. His shoulders shook with the laughter that bubbled up and it took a moment for him to gain enough control to speak clearly. "It's not French. It's Italian."

Heat rose up in Harry's face until even the tips of his ears were flushed.

Before he could loose the defensive insult that hovered on the tip of his tongue, Draco waved his hands in apology and smiled. It was hard to be mad at his lover when he continued to smile like that.

Glancing over the menu, Draco 'hmmed' faintly to himself before looking back up at Harry with an oddly intense look on his face. "Do you trust me?"

Wary, the Gryffindor answered slowly. "For the most part." 

He trusted Draco to be himself, at any rate.

The answer prompted another brilliant smile. "Good." 

Draco signaled their server and spoke to the woman in rapid fire Italian. She left and moments later, their goblets filled with a deep red wine. He picked up his and motioned for Harry to follow suit. "To the future."

Harry arched a brow in question, but didn't actually voice it as they gently clinked the goblets together.

The dinner of salad and a deliciously rich pasta that Harry had never had before was eaten around light conversation of school and Quidditch.

Everything was cleared away and though the pair declined desert, they each accepted a second glass of wine. Sipping it carefully- he really had no head for alcohol- Harry wondered if his questions would be answered now. Before he could ask them, Draco had placed a small box on the table and pushed it towards him.  
"Draco... The clothes were more than-"

His protest was waved away. "The clothes were for my own selfish reasons. A Malfoy can hardly be seen in public with someone who dresses like a vagabond. This is different. Please, Harry, just open it."

Rather than remark about the offense to his clothing, Harry turned his attention to the box, opening it with great trepidation. His mouth gaped open at the sight of its contents. "Draco? Is this… Is this what I think it is?"

Despite having spent the better part of the last seven years of his life learning about the wizarding world, he still occasionally bumbled things horribly to the amusement of those who'd been born into it. And this would be the bumble of all bumbles if he were wrong.

The look on Draco’s face was completely serious in spite of the soft smile he wore. He inclined his head slightly. "If you're thinking that it's a band for a bonding promise, then yes, it is."

Harry was flabbergasted. Completely and utterly stunned. For a long moment, as he sat there staring at the tastefully ornate band, his body was frozen with his shock. After all the torment of knowing his time with Draco was going to be short, that one day they might even end up on the opposite sides of a battlefield, his mind was having a hard time processing this abrupt reversal in everything it knew to be true.

"Draco..."

"You don't have to decide now, of course. Considering the commitment involved, it's probably best to think about it first."

Marriage between witches and wizards, he knew, were a great deal different than those of Muggles. They were bound together magically and it was a bond that could only be severed by death. There were no divorces in the wizarding world. If he said yes, then it would be permanent.

It was a commitment that he'd never expected from anyone, never mind Draco Malfoy.

"Why?"

Draco tilted his head to one side. "Why am I asking now or why am I asking you?"

He gulped hard. "Both."

"We'll be graduating soon. I would have begun looking for a potential spouse right around now anyway. As for why you... You love me."

He stated it simply, as if that was the only thing that mattered. Harry hadn't even realized that Draco was aware of his feelings. He'd thought he'd done a fairly good job of keeping them under wraps, but apparently he was as bad an actor and liar as Ron and Hermione had always claimed. Regardless, he didn't bother trying to deny it. "But you don't love me."

Draco shrugged. "I don't love anyone other than my parents. I am, however, rather more fond of you than I have been of anyone else I've ever known. Quite odd really, when you consider our relationship up until a few months ago." He looked bemused at the thought for a long moment before shaking it off. "I will grow to love you, Harry."

Again, he looked as if he was stating a known fact rather than just making guesses. 

"How can you be so sure?" Harry sighed. "I swear, sometimes I don't understand you at all."

That got a smile. "Love begets love. Harry, I was going to be married within a year of graduating regardless, and as no one but you has ever really held my interest for more than a week or two, I'd have probably allowed my father to choose someone. Someone who loved only my money and my name."

"And what about your family? I can't imagine they'll be too pleased about this."

"I spoke to my father this morning. You're right, he's not very happy about it, but he accepts my choice. Father's own marriage to my mother was arranged and I understand they were both quite miserable for years before enough positive emotion began to take root and grow between them. Now, anyone could tell you that they're quite in love. They won't approve of the match in public, of course, but that's only due to the differences in allegiances."

Harry wondered briefly about Lucius and Narcissa before the last bit caught his attention. "What do you mean?"

Draco rolled his eyes, his expression clearly saying he thought Harry was being slow on purpose. "Obviously, my allegiances will change from my father to my spouse. And while another might be willing to enter into You-Know-Who's service or remain entirely neutral, I hardly think either choice would set well with you, now would it?"

Unsure whether he should be upset about the casual mention that becoming a Death Eater had been such an obvious path for Draco or annoyed that Voldemort’s name was still so taboo, the Boy Who Lived shook his head. 

No, there was no way he could be anything other than in the thick of things once the battle with Voldemort was finally fully engaged and he'd kill himself before he'd join the bastard.

"Your father will kill me for sure now." Lucius Malfoy had long hated him; he could only imagine how much worse it would be. Even rejecting Draco would probably not save him.

"No, he won't. My father may not be as soft and fluffy as a Hufflepuff, but he'd never intentionally cause me grief. I told you, he accepts my choice. He and my mother are two of Voldemort’s soldiers that you will never have to fear again. I daresay that if things continue to go in your favor, they may even defect entirely. My mother isn’t one for lost causes.”

That perked Harry up a bit. He'd resigned himself to the fact that, despite his feelings for the younger Malfoy, one day he might have to kill one of the Malfoys, or that one of them would kill him. That they would be on the opposing side had always been a given.

Taking three future enemies out of the equation would have been enough to make him seriously consider the proposal even if he hadn't been in love.

There were other issues to consider, though, and Draco was already speaking again as he pushed some scrolls over in front of Harry. "I also spoke to a barrister today. Your parents were clients of his before they died. I suspected you wouldn't want to live on Malfoy property and everyone knows you refuse to go near your godfather's residence since his death. The Potter estate in Godric's Hollow would need to be rebuilt, but it does still belong to you. There's plenty of acreage, if you don't wish to build in the same spot as the former home."

The breath caught in his chest and pain stabbed at him for a moment from the reminder of the loss of both his parents and Sirius all at once. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain a sense of balance.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and regretful silver eyes met his when he twisted his head to look up at Draco. The blonde was beside him, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't think."

"S'okay." And it was, really. The only memory he had of his parents was their deaths and he'd hardly known Sirius. He had to get over it eventually. If only so that other people didn't have to feel like they were walking through a minefield when they conversed with him.

Still, it was sweet of Draco to try and comfort him.

Breathing in the scent of the man holding him blended with the flowers, Harry wrapped his own arms around Draco and snuggled closer.

And he knew, in that moment, what his decision would be. It wouldn’t be easy. There were things to work out and friends to convince.

He might not have had any choice in falling in love with Draco Malfoy, but he did have the choice of holding onto him.

It was a choice he made gladly and without regret.


End file.
